Yes, she needs to make sure they have the chemistry

Maya’s answer came soft but clear.

“Yes. An hour. Just practice. Then I’ll go home.”

Mike gave a single nod and reached for the door handle. They left the car quickly, moving toward the building with deliberate quiet. The sight of Leo’s car still parked outside made every footstep feel sharper. Maya stayed pressed close against Mike’s side as they climbed the stairs, heart beating fast with residual need and the sudden risk of being seen.

They slipped into Mike’s apartment and closed the door with care. The moment the lock clicked, the careful distance of the hallway vanished.

Mike turned and pulled her hard against him. The kiss was immediate and hungry—deeper, wetter, more open than any of the measured ones earlier. His tongue pushed into her mouth; Maya met it with equal force.

“God, you’re already shaking,” he murmured against her lips between kisses. “Still so wound up from before.”

“I need this,” she whispered back, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. “Just practice… but I need it.”

Clothes came off in a rush of mutual urgency. Maya pulled at his T-shirt first, wanting the heat of his bare skin. She pushed the fabric up and over his head, hands already roaming the solid breadth of his chest and the soft give of his stomach, not caring about the heavy 21-stone frame. She worked his sweatpants down while he shoved her jeans and underwear to the floor. When they were both bare she pressed herself fully against him, skin to skin.

This is practice. This is for the chemistry. This is so the campaign feels real.

They moved through the dim apartment still kissing, still touching, until they reached the bedroom. Neither of them noticed the window standing open to the quiet evening air.

On the bed the pace slowed only enough to become more thorough. They lay on their sides facing each other. Maya wrapped her fingers around the thick length of him, stroking with growing confidence.

“Like this?” she asked, voice already unsteady.

“Just like that,” Mike answered, low and rough. His hand slid between her thighs, finding her slick and swollen. Two fingers pressed inside her while his thumb circled her clit. “Feel how ready you are for more practice.”

They pleasured each other in focused rhythms, bringing the heat higher, always slowing before the edge. The mutual denial stretched the need until Maya was trembling and making soft, frustrated sounds against his mouth.

When Mike finally shifted over her and settled between her thighs, she lifted her hips without hesitation. He pushed into her in one slow, heavy thrust.

The stretch was intense—thicker and fuller than anything she had felt before. Maya’s mouth fell open and a broken, high cry tore from her throat.

“Oh—fuck—Mike—”

The feeling of him filling her so completely made her back arch. Every inch dragged against sensitive places Leo had never reached so deeply. The pressure, the heat, the solid weight of his body pressing her into the mattress sent sharp sparks of pleasure through her core. She had never been vocal during sex; now she could not stay quiet.

“You’re so tight around me,” Mike groaned, beginning to move. “That’s it… take it. This is what the practice is for.”

He thrust in steady, deep strokes. Each one pulled another unrestrained sound from her—soft moans at first, then louder, franker cries as the pleasure built.

“Ah—ah—don’t stop—please—”

Her hands gripped the soft flesh of his back. Her legs wrapped high around his waist. The wet sound of their bodies meeting filled the room along with her rising voice. The practice mantra still ran underneath—chemistry, campaign, necessary—but it grew thinner with every thrust.

They changed positions. Mike rolled them so she sat astride him. Maya braced her hands on his broad chest and began to move, lifting and sinking onto him in a rhythm that quickly grew urgent.

This is still practice, she told herself as she rode him, the thick length of him stretching her over and over. I’m learning how to move with him. How to look natural. How to make the chemistry real for the cameras. That’s all this is.

But the inner dialogue kept fracturing under the sheer physical intensity. Every downward roll of her hips sent another wave of heat through her. Her breasts swayed with the motion; his hands gripped her waist, guiding her. Soft, helpless moans turned into sharper cries.

“Mike—oh God—it feels—so much—”

She leaned forward, hands sliding up to his shoulders, hips working faster. The angle made him rub against places that drew real, open screams of pleasure from her throat—sounds she had never made with Leo, sounds that echoed toward the open window without either of them noticing.

“That’s it, star,” Mike encouraged, voice rough. “Use me. Practise exactly like this.”

She came first with a shaking, high cry, body clamping down around him as the orgasm rolled through her in long, intense waves. He followed soon after, gripping her hips and thrusting up hard while she still trembled above him.

Even then they did not stop for long. After a short breathing pause they began again—slower, deeper, more exploratory. Maya stayed vocal throughout, every fresh climb drawing more moans and broken pleas from her. What was meant to be one careful hour stretched far beyond it. They lost track of time in the heat, the repeated movement, and the open way she kept responding.

When they finally stilled for good, the room was darker, the air cooler from the open window, and more than two hours had passed.

Maya collapsed against his chest, skin damp, body still humming, the cover of practice still wrapped around everything they had just done even as the reality of the time and the open window began, slowly, to settle in.